


Take My Hand

by mackenziebutterschnapps (hannibalsbattlebot)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Abuse mention, F/F, Non-Graphic Violence, Season 2, Season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 23:43:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5517512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannibalsbattlebot/pseuds/mackenziebutterschnapps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miriam Lass tries to piece her life back together after being saved from The Ripper. With the help of Freddie Lounds, she tracks Hannibal to Europe where the course of her life becomes clearer.</p><p>Set in the timeframe between Yakimono and Dolce</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take My Hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [i_swear_by_all_flowers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_swear_by_all_flowers/gifts).



"Hey neighbor."

Freddie leaned against the doorway in a very studied pose: head cocked to the side, tumble of red curls over one shoulder. Casual, friendly and non-threatening.

Miriam looked up at her. Freddie wore gloves and had her arms folded, leaving only one hand visible. Miriam saw this for the psychological trick it was, but appreciated the thought behind it. Someone had thought about her comfort for once, even if Freddie probably had ulterior motives. Miriam's own hands—both the real and the prosthetic—were pressed together between her knees, her shoulders hunched. She was constantly bracing for another blow from the world.

"Ms. Lounds," Miriam said with a nod. It was a neutral acknowledgement not meant to be either encouraging or dismissive. A statement of fact. Ms. Lounds was the name she was called. Freddie. Fredericka.

"You busy?" Freddie asked.

"No."

It had been clear that Miriam hadn't been doing anything. There was no book in front of her. The television and radio were off. She had been staring into space and thinking.

Freddie hesitated in the doorway another moment before taking one step into the room. They were in the same wing of the safe house quarters; the only ones there at the time. Freddie was dead and Miriam was hiding _until_ (not _if_ ) The Ripper was caught. Temporary accommodations, or so the plan went.

"I expected more out of an FBI safe house," Freddie said. "Whatever happened to near misses, lock downs, security breaches?" She sat down next to Miriam, who looked at her with mild alarm, a sudden alertness that someone was in her personal space. "I'm going stir crazy not being able to blog or do anything that might tip off the outside world that I'm alive." The cocked head returned. "What about you?"

"I kind of need this right now," she said. "A soft transition back into the world."

"And you'd rather do that here than with family?"

Miriam blue eyes hardened, although her voice came shakily though clenched jaws. "I don't want to talk to you."

Instead of being offended, Freddie leaned back and smiled. "They told me you were smart. Smarter than Will Graham at least. _You_ know when to shut up around the media. The first time I ran into him he threatened my life."

"He wasn't serious."

 _I don't know about that_ , Freddie thought, remembering how absolutely serious he had been as he dragged her out of the car towards a shed with neatly packed choice cuts of human. He hadn't killed her, but he easily could have.

"A quote's a quote," Freddie said, pushing aside the memory.

Freddie's first instinct was to pump Miriam for information, but she knew it would be short-sighted. Miriam didn't remember anything and any attempts to dredge up memories of her captivity would just make her resentful. Miriam didn't need her story told, she needed to be left alone.  She did need that soft transition back into the world. Freddie had made mistakes with Abigail. She had let her down by not always being the advocate she needed. Here she was, being given a second chance.

"Look, for what my word's worth, I promise I'm not going to publish anything else about your story," Freddie said. "Talk or don't talk, I'm not going to pressure you. The offer stands." She reached in her purse and pulled out a deck of cards. "Poker?"

Miriam was quiet, but not unfriendly. She came across as though she welcomed company, but didn't know what to do with it once she had it.  She was also a darn good poker player.

Freddie wondered what Miriam had been like as an FBI trainee. She certainly knew how to bluff, Freddie though as she lost another hand. She knew Miriam's history pretty well from when she went missing.

"You had some impressive credentials. A doctorate in criminal justice? Does that mean I should call you Dr. Lass?" she teased as she shuffled the cards. She had to take off her gloves to do so and Miriam watched her hands, appreciative of their coordinated movements. Ten fingers working in concert with barely a thought.

"Should I call you Ms. Lounds?"

"Usually people only call me Ms. Lounds when they are pissed at me or trying to put me in my place."

"Freddie," she said. "And you can call me Miriam."

"Okay, Miriam," she said. "What do you do for fun?"

"I don't know," Miriam said shifting in her seat. "I know what I used to like to do for fun, but I've changed—been changed—so much it's hard to figure out what I can carry over from my old life."

"Wouldn't going back into old routines bring you some comfort? Like eating home cooking or seeing your childhood teddy bear?"

"Not necessarily," Miriam said. "Is it comfort, or is it just a reminder of how much I've changed? For example, I liked to watch movies but I can't even do that now. Something always ambushes me. I know  to stay away from horror movies, of course, thriller and action movies too. But I can't even watch kids' movies. _Beauty and the Beast_ and Rapunzel both have kidnapping and captivity as a main plot point. Finding Nemo has memory loss. Even something as innocuous as _Star Wars_ …"

Miriam trailed off and Freddie tried to run through what she knew of the movies quickly. The dark side? Exploding planets? Really dysfunctional families? _Ewoks_?

Miriam saw Freddie hadn't made the connection. She held up her prosthetic hand and waved it slightly. "Luuuuuke…." Freddie had forgotten Luke had gotten his hand light-sabered off. Unexpectedly, Miriam laughed and Freddie couldn't help but smile. It was the first genuine emotion she had seen.

Miriam dropped her voice down an octave and waved her hand again.

"Luuuuke, I am your therapist."

 

All it took was a flirt session with Pete the FBI handler and Freddie got what she wanted: a box set of Abbott and Costello movies. "I used to watch these with my dad," she told Miriam as she popped popcorn in the small microwave. She hovered over it, finger ready to press the stop button as soon as the kernels stopped popping. She hated the smell of burned popcorn.

Miriam was skeptical. Cornball comedians in black and white monster movies?

"They are silly," Freddie continued. She jabbed the stop button, and left the door open so the steam would escape. "I'm getting Pete to bring me some Three Stooges too, but I think Abbott and Costello are clever in their silliness. They just don't make slapstick the way they used to."

First they watched _Abbott and Costello Meet the Invisible Man_ and Miriam found herself laughing at their lightning-fast banter and their over the top vaudeville acting style. It was perfectly disconnected from reality.

They finished the first movie and since it was still early and they had nothing else to do, they started _Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein_.

"If this is Frankenstein why does the movie start with a werewolf?" Miriam asked.

"It's the wolfman, and don't worry, it will make sense in a little while," Freddie said.

"I don't care," Miriam said. With the only light in the room the blue flicker of the television, the room looked different. It was cozier, less bare. It didn't take much imagination to make this into the living room of her new apartment. Her new life would be very much like this, she decided. Cozy and quiet. Black and white movies and bowls of popcorn. Someone to share it with. "Thank you for doing this for me, Freddie."

Freddie chewed a few more pieces of popcorn. "When was the last time someone did something for you? Just to be nice, not because they wanted anything."

Miriam was silent. The look on her face was heartbreaking to Freddie. No one should have to think so hard about being shown kindness, least of all someone who was so emotionally raw.

She liked Miriam, liked her a lot. Under the outer layer of fear and anxiety, she was tough and she was smart. She had found the Ripper. People tended to forget that Will Graham wasn't the first to follow his instincts into the Ripper's lair.

Freddie leaned in, paused and waited for Miriam to move away. They could laugh off the awkwardness or just ignore it, and watch movies tomorrow sitting on separate couches. Instead, Miriam seemed to take in Freddie's whole face: eyes, cheek and then a glance down at her lips. She leaned forward and bridged the gap between them. Their lips met, soft and hesitant at first.

 

Freddie was alone in her room, refolding the clothes she got back from the laundry service, when she heard footsteps in the hall. She was halfway to the door to sneak a look out when it opened and a young man with an earpiece and a brush cut leaned in and said. "We'd appreciate it if you'd sit tight for now, Ms. Lounds." He needn't have bothered to ask nicely; he locked the door after he shut it behind him.

Freddie didn't have her electronic listening device (funny they didn't let her keep that) so she went old school, getting on her hands and knees and putting her cupped ear as close to the crack under the door as possible. She heard the words "acting director" and sat back on her heels, just in time. The door opened and Miriam slipped in and shut the door again behind her.

"They didn't lock you in?"

"Of course not," she said. "My lock is on the other side, so I can keep people out."

"Do you know what's going on?"

"Some," she said. She helped Freddie to her feet and motioned for her to sit next to her on the couch. "The news is all bad and then it gets worse." She brushed her hair out of her eyes with her good hand. She was slightly out of breath. "They sprang the trap to catch the Ripper and…we don't know what happened, but it didn't go as planned. They are all in the hospital. No one knows if they are going to make it."

"Will and Jack?"

"And Alana Bloom. They think Dr. Bloom just showed up, wrong place wrong time, and got caught in the middle of it."

"What about Hannibal?"

"No trace. He got away."

"How did he just _get away_?"

Miriam shrugged. She had no answer for that. She sat with her shoulders hunched, the weight of the information she still had weighing her down. That Dr. Lecter got away was only the _bad_ news. It was still going to get worse.

"Is there something else you haven't told me?" Freddie asked.

"There was someone else there…" Miriam said, trailing off. "They aren't going to confirm it officially for a while, but everyone is pretty sure. They found Abigail."

"Her body? Was—was she in bad shape?" Freddie remembered picking the lock of a chest freezer and what she found inside "or did he keep her in the freezer all this time?"

"She still had a heartbeat when rescue got there," Miriam said. "But they couldn't save her. She had lost too much blood."

"She was alive?" Freddie said. "She was alive all this time?"

"We should have thought of it," Miriam said, shaking her head. "Of all people, I should have thought of it." She got up and hugged herself, good hand grasping the opposite arm. "I didn't want to think about what happened to me. I didn't want to think it might have been happening to someone else."

"You never saw her while you were there, did you?"

"No, but I should have known." Miriam said. "I didn't want to profile anymore and now Abigail is really  dead."

All that time Freddie was trying to get justice for Abigail, she was still alive, still capable of being saved.

They were both crying. Miriam was crying tears of powerless frustration. _They screwed it up, they screwed it up. He's gone. He's smoke in the wind. He's gone leaving broken bodies and spilled blood behind him._ She pounded her fist against her leg.

Freddie felt breathless. This had been what Miriam felt, while she alone carried this secret, like the enormity of the sudden news had forced all the air out of her lungs. Freddie felt she had let Abigail down all again. _How did I not know?_ There were the spiraling thoughts of what programing and brainwashing she must have gone through. _What had been left of her in the end?_ She looked at Miriam, whose tear streaked face was contorted in pain. _What had Miriam been like Before? Would she ever be that way again?_

Miriam's distress showed no sign of easing. She sobbed in to her hands, her body doubled over. Freddie had seen this before with people who had been in shock. Once the damn opened, the built up feeling of years would come pouring out, unstoppable.

Freddie hugged her and just held on, saying nothing. Miriam wouldn't be able to hear anything she said, anyway, and she didn't have the words of comfort to offer. Saying nothing, Freddie was as honest as she had ever been.

"I don't know if I can handle this," Miriam said. "I was waiting for my life to start again. Once the Ripper was caught, I could live again. He might never be caught now, Freddie."

"Someone will catch him," she said through gritted teeth. _I'll make sure of that._

Miriam was still crying but she was sitting now. Freddie passed her some tissues and then used one to give herself a few swipes under each eye.

"You aren't alone," Freddie said. "You have me. There are ways to catch him."

They spent some moments of silence together, catching their breath and letting the waves of awful knowledge wash over them.

"You should go talk to someone," Freddie said finally. "I don't know if you can handle things without professional help. A lot of issues will come up for you now."

"Therapy, Freddie?" Miriam looked at her incredulously.

Freddie thought of Miriam ending her pain for good. It might happen. "If you fall apart, Dr. Lecter wins."

"How can I trust a therapist? And how could a regular therapist help me?"

"Have you thought about going to see Dr. Chilton?" Freddie asked gently. "He might be the only one you could talk to who really understands the situation."

"I shot him in the head."

"It isn't the worst thing that's been done to him," Freddie said mildly. She pulled Miriam off her shoulder so she could look her in the eye. "You had good intentions. You wanted to kill the Ripper."

Miriam furrowed her brow, but didn't otherwise express her doubts.

"I know Frederick better than you do," Freddie said. "Trust me. He's not angry with you."

 

Dr. Chilton beckoned Miriam in to the room with a slight motion of his fingers. The lights were dimmed and the one chair in the room was on the right side of the bed, opposite from the ruined half of his face. Miriam got a glimpse of it before she sat. Most of that half of his face was wrapped in bandages, but she could see the slightly caved-in look on that side of his mouth that made it clear that he was missing some teeth and maybe some of his jaw bone. She felt a twinge of guilt, but just a twinge.

He spoke with some difficulty.

"Freddie said you were interested in therapy. Anyone else, I would tell them I'm not taking new patients, but I'm very interested in exploring Hannibal's messes," he smiled with half his mouth. "No offense."

"None taken." His abrasive manner made her sit up straighter. It was the perfect tone. If he been sappy and emotional—even if he was trying to sympathize—she would have left as soon as she could and never come back.

He sighed and rolled his head back on the pillow. "Do I need to actually tell you that I don't harbor any resentment against you?"

"It's good to hear it."

"It’s a non-issue really. To me you were nothing more than a remote triggering device for a gun that was already loaded and cocked."

"That's dehumanizing."

"Hannibal turned you into a machine. The fix was in for me, one way of the other. If it wasn't you, it would have been something else."

"So what does the puppet do when he's supposed to be a real boy again?" She raised her prosthetic hand and flexed her fingers. To her surprise, Dr. Chilton reached out and took the hand in both of his. She knew it was an illusion, a trick of her brain and perception, but she felt the warm softness of his hands on hers.

"Its up to you," he said. "But that's something we can talk about." He patted her hand, released it.

"I don't know what I want. I feel like there's no room for me in my own life."

"Your former life, you mean?"

"The Ripper used to be a surgeon and he skillfully cut me out of my own life. Time went on and the place where I had been healed over. There's no Miriam-shaped hole for me to slip into. My family doesn't understand it. They want me to go back to my apartment and start going to Sunday dinner and go back to FBI training! As if I could sit in class and take notes on these sickos without wanting to yell. Do these instructors know more than I do? They spent years in grad school. I spent years in a serial killer's basement. At one time I wanted to understand these killers. I don't want that anymore."

"What do you want?"

She shook her head.

"Stop acting like a victim is supposed to act," Dr. Chilton said. "What are you feeling?"

"Fear."

"No," he said. "Be honest." He motioned at a glass of water on the nightstand. Miriam brought it close and held the straw while he sipped.

"I'm angry," she said.

"Good," he said. "Who are you angry with?"

"I'm angry with The Ripper. I don't want him caught. I want him dead."

"Good," Frederick said again. "Is that the only person you are angry with?" When she didn't respond, he pressed.  "Are you angry with yourself?"

"No," she said firmly. "The Ripper is who he is. It wasn't personal. It was my bad luck to fall in his path."

"Bad luck?" he said gently. "Was it just bad luck that put you in the Ripper's path?"

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Do you feel that you were ill-used by those who were supposed to protect you?"

"You mean Jack? Protecting me is not his job," she said. "I knew the danger. His job is to catch killers."

"At what cost?" Frederick said. "If you'll excuse me for pointing this out, he has a pattern of using people. He made your suffering worthless by not learning from it. Even after he lost you, presumably murdered by the Ripper, he sent Beverly Katz on the same quest, with a similar outcome."

"He cared about me."

"How has he supported you since you've returned? He took you to a therapy session with Dr. Lecter, didn't he? Do you think he did that for your benefit? If he had even the slightest suspicion he should have kept you away. He wanted to jar your memories." He leaned forward. "Why did you shoot me? Why were you even in that room? To make an identification? I was in jail. They had plenty of reason to hold me, but Jack brought you in as soon as possible because you were emotionally unstable. Miriam, he wanted you to break."

"That isn't true!" Miriam said. "He's just trying to catch these killers."

"You, Beverly Katz, Will Graham." He paused, each name sinking in like blows. "Who else will be chewed up and spat out, sucked dry and discarded when they aren't any use anymore? There will always be another killer. Even after the Ripper is caught, someone else will come along and Jack Crawford will feel justified in throwing another trainee to the wolves to catch him. Not just justified; he will feel _righteous_ about it. He will take his own suffering as proof of payment made without figuring the other person's sacrifice."

Frederick sat back and leaned against his pillow. He was suddenly very tired.

"You need to explore the levels of your rage," he said. "You need to feel them and move through them."

 

Walking back to her room, Miriam seethed. She died in that basement. She died when her arm was taken. She died in the well. She died when she realized she had been let down by the people she trusted.

Miriam. Such a soft name. It sounded like a woman with graying braids who made her own soap and ate wheat berries for breakfast. "Miriam" was a vegetarian, and had certainly never eaten human flesh. "Miriam" had no speck of revenge in her heart.  This Miriam had to change her name. She would never be that woman.

Miriam knocked on Freddie's door. She didn't realize how late it was until a half-asleep Freddie answered. The room was dark behind her.

"Miriam?"

"Don't call me Miriam. I'm not her anymore." She walked past Freddie into the dark room.

Freddie nodded, then stopped. "But who are you, then?"

She sat down on the edge of the bed. She hadn't thought that far ahead. Freddie sat next to her.

"Do you have a middle name?"

"Regina," Miriam said.

"You could go by that from now on. I think it fits," Freddie said, raking her fingers through the gold of the other woman's hair, letting it fall loose around her shoulders. "It means queen."

"I know," she said. "It always embarrassed me growing up. I'm no queen. I was just a little blonde girl from the suburbs." A little blonde girl with braids and not a care in the world. "Miriam Lass"—it fit the girl back then.

Freddie said. She kissed Miriam on the cheek. "Let me call you Regina, but just me. I want you to be my queen, no one else's."

 

She was back to profiling, but this time it had a purpose: to kill The Ripper. Not catch. Kill. She was working freelance.

It was this new Miriam who thought of stalking Will Graham.

"Not stalking," she said. "Surveilling."

Freddie shrugged. She wouldn't have minded stalking. She just wanted to know why.

"Wherever The Ripper is, he's going to come back for Will." She only ever called Hannibal the Ripper. He didn't deserve a name or an honorific. Doctors are healers and have earned their position. Any good Dr. Lecter had done in his life had been undone a thousand times over.

"Why would he do that?"

"There's something there," Miriam said. "I think they care for each other. Maybe love is too strong a word." She paused, thoughtful. "Or maybe not. I think they will find their way back to each other, because they miss each other."

"Hannibal stabbed Will and left him for dead."

Miriam was looking down the sight of her rifle, wondering how accurate it was. She was going back on the range in a few hours. She invited Freddie, who declined, although, in Miriam's opinion, she could stand to work on her aim.

"If The Ripper wanted him dead, he'd be dead. So I ask myself why is he still alive?"

"The same reason you are. A reproach to Jack Crawford."

"It would have been more effective to kill him in front of Jack and let Jack live. Instead he killed Abigail in front of Will. Why?"

"They were acting as her guardians. He wanted to hurt Will emotionally as well as physically."

"This reads to me like one of these murder suicides where a man kills his whole family because he's afraid of losing them. Abigail's death was a reproach to Will."

"This was domestic violence?"

"In a way. I think the Ripper left him alive for the simplest of reasons. He loves him and hopes to win him back someday. This was his version of saying 'You'll miss me when I'm gone. You'll see. You'll be sorry.'"

"I guess I could see how the Ripper would express his love in a sick and twisted way, but are you saying the feelings are mutual?"

"They have a dark harmony," Miriam said.  She set the rifle down. "I guess its hard to understand unless you've lived it, but as crazy as it is, I miss the Ripper sometimes too. He could be kind and gentle. I was drugged, but laid out in a comfortable bed. The drugs he gave me didn't just knock me out or make me woozy. They sent me on pleasant trips, gave me a sense of euphoria. He played me music and had fresh-cut flowers, different arrangements so I would know they were changed out fresh every few days. He made me feel affection for him. I looked forward to his visits. It might have been the cruelest thing he'd done. This semblance of care."  She looked at Freddie. "Imagine how intense it would be if he actually did care. It would be irresistible."

 

They both kept tabs on Will. Freddie traced his electronic trail while Miriam conducted physical surveillance. It was Miriam who, trading on her FBI contacts, got into Will's hospital room, planted a few bugs and took some exclusive photos for tattle crime.

So when Will hopped on a boat for a transatlantic cruise, they were the first to know.

"I was wrong," Miriam said to Freddie when she delivered the news. "The Ripper isn't going to Will, he is luring his prey to him. Do you still think this is unrequited?"

The playing field was crowded in Italy. It was Freddie who chased down leads and figured out the Mason Verger angle. It was Verger, possibly working with Dr. Bloom, who bought out the Florentine police and put a million dollar bounty on The Ripper's head. It was Miriam who spotted Jack Crawford and Inspector Pazzi. Freddie found out information about an unknown female who was accompanying Will. Will was apparently traveling with her by train and then, abruptly, wasn't. They lost Will for a while, but picked him up again in Florence. At one point, Miriam, wearing a dark wig and higher heels than she had worn in years, had even been in the same café as "Mrs. Fell." She had Freddie's gun and hoped Mrs. Fell was meeting her husband for lunch, but he never showed.

Some of the players were aware of each other and others weren't. She and Freddie alone seemed to know about everyone. _We are a good team_ , Miriam thought.

 

Miriam's artificial hand didn't shake. Properly positioned, it was as steady as a tripod.

Miriam licked her lips and watched through her scope as the two familiar figures walked across the piazza. It was a good scope and she was in the perfect position; behind and a little to the left of The Ripper.

Through the scope she could see the exact place she wanted to put the bullet. It would be the lightest kiss behind his left ear. In the magnified view of the scope, the curve of his ear loomed like a balustrade, a sheet of hair behind it like a curtain. She could reach out with a high caliber finger and part that curtain, keep going through the wall of flesh and bone to the brain matter. She didn't know why the Ripper was the way he was and she didn't care. She didn't need a scalpel to cure the world of this blight. Turning that clever and evil mind into pulp would do just fine.

She hoped the bullet had enough momentum to punch through and through and disfigure him on the way out. That would be a nice bonus.

Miriam heard a shot and thought for one moment that she had pulled the trigger.  Looking down through her scope she could see Will Graham collapsed on the ground. There was movement on the roof opposite Miriam, a black flapping like the wing of a bird. Miriam broke down her gun and got it into the case as fast as she could. There was a second shooter.

 

In the chaos of the moment, Miriam lost sight of the Ripper, and when she finally traced his movements to a nearby apartment building, it was clear that he had been there and gone.

She walked through the scene, taking care not to tread on the two dead Italian cops. Freddie watched her quietly take everything in. She turned on the recording device and got several moments of silence as Miriam walked the perimeter of the room.

"Well," Miriam finally said. "We just missed all the fun." She circled the table. "Table set for three. Seats for Will and Jack, the Ripper acting as host." She picked up a small pan and gave the blackened contents in the bottom a sniff. "Burned butter. A tableside presentation. Nice. No meat in evidence, so judging from some of this spatter and the bloody circular saw, he was going to serve some fresh cuts."

"Who was he going to serve to who?"

Miriam put her black-gloved hands on the back of a chair that had dangling straps and blood spatter fanning out on the table in front of the chair. "Will was going to be the main course."

"Going to be?"

"They were interrupted by the police."

"How do you know that Will isn't dead?" Freddie poked at the IV bag on its stand. Probably not just glucose in there. The needle hanging down from the tubing was dripping steadily on the carpet.

"If he's dead, where is he? No matter how hungry the Ripper was, a full grown man is a lot to swallow at once." She said. "Plus, no meat in the pan. The Ripper didn't even have a chance to turn off the heat. Ruined a nice pan."

"So the police bust in and…" Freddie waved at the broken window. "One of them panics and fires a wild shot. Or maybe the Ripper gets one of their guns away from them and shoots them, making their escape?"

Miriam was only half listening, looking closely at the bullet hole in the window.

"Get out," she said so calmly Freddie thought she misheard.

"What?"

"Get out!"

She crossed the room in a few strides, grabbed Freddie and started pushing her toward the door. She wouldn't explain until they were in the hallway.

"That was no wild shot through the window. It came from outside. It was probably our mystery shooter. You know, the one who poached my game on the piazza? He--or she--might still be out there. Wasn't Will Graham was seen traveling by train with an unknown woman? I don't know how they would go from bunkmates to her shooting him sniper style--"

"Makes sense," Freddie said. "If I had to be in an enclosed place with Will Graham for any length of time, I would want to shoot him too."

"I think she was another hunter. She had the same idea we had. Follow the trail of Graham cracker crumbs. But she's dangerous because she wants to protect the Ripper."

"How do you know that?"

"Because she's a good shot and she only went for other people who were possible threats to the Ripper."

 Freddie grabbed Miriam's arm. "If that's true then you lucky you weren't killed on that rooftop! If she knew you were there to kill Hannibal she might have shot you first."

"Glad I got away from that window."

"Well what now? Where is everyone? The mystery shooter takes out the cops and...what? The four of them—the shooter, Will, Hannibal, Jack—all disappear into the sunset together?"

Miriam drummed the fingers of her right hand on the wall lightly. She looked like she was trying to see the scene again right through the wall. "I doubt the two dead cops came alone. If they were bought off then they knew what they were up against.  I think the Ripper and Will were delivered to Mason Verger successfully."

"Why not just kill them here and be done with it?" Freddie said.

"Verger is going to want to take a personal part in what's going to happen to them.  He's not in the best physical condition and he would want to have them on his home turf. Like most obscenely wealthy people, he's going to have the goods delivered to him. Verger is going to have them brought back to Maryland."

"So what do we do now?" Freddie asked.

Miriam looked down at the gun case in her hand, and set it on the floor. "We get married."

Freddie was rarely taken by surprise, but this did it.

"I've been thinking a lot about what I want my life to be like now," Miriam said. "We both came back to life. What do we want to do without second chances? I'm not saying we give up on the Ripper. But we can't make the Ripper our lives. It isn't healthy. Look at Will Graham."

Freddie wrinkled her nose.

"He set out to catch the Ripper and now he's lost, done for," Miriam said. "Even if he, by some miracle, survives this kidnapping, he's still going to be miserable. He let the Ripper become his whole life and how did the Ripper repay him?

"By trying to deli slice him and serve him to Jack Crawford."

"Exactly," Miriam said. "I came here to do a job and I'm going to do it until it ends. But I'm not going to put my life on hold. I love you, Freddie and I want to be with you. Not someday when the Ripper had been dealt with, but now, today. I want to have a fiancée that I love and am building a life with."

Freddie put her arms around Miriam.

"Yes," she said. "I want your new life to be our life. The Ripper can wait. Mason Verger is keeping him nice and safe for us. In the meantime, Regina, I want to show you Florence."


End file.
